Slowly, rumors and gossip have begun to illuminate something of the unusually secretive negotiations between King Daeron the First and the Sealord of Braavos, Ferro Antaryon. Speculation was rife in the time since the Sealord’s arrival, but asking members of his embassy—even the loqacious Donalo Prestayn, reprsentative of the Iron Bank—was fruitless, and not one of the small councillors offered so much as a whisper. If there were any inclined to speak loosely, it seems Preston Wayn, the king’s master of whisperers, had put the fear of punishment on them. And so the slightest of trickles were the only source of news and it now—only now—tat the full portent of the Sealord’s visit is clear.

Because, it seems, the Sealord, called the Lion of Braavos, is in want of a wife. And more, it seems the king is minded to give him one: Princess Rhaena, his second eldest sister. This now explains the Sealord’s carrying of her favor during the joust of love, where he performed bravely if not well. And does this also explain the past rumors of quarrels between the Sealord and Lord Cargyll? The Master of Coins has departed the city for a time, to his ancestral seat not far from King’s Landing, and some wonder if he may not now soon resign the office he has held these many years.

There are those who say that now the rumors of messages flying to Ser Alyn Velaryon, and to the conversation between the Sealord and Lord Jonothor Arryn, becomes clearer. Could the king be envisioning an alliance with Braavos, sealed with the marriage, to sweep the Stepstones of its pirates? Might it even be that the Young Dragon’s sight goes further than the shores of the Seven Kingdoms? The maesters will recall that before Aegon the Conqueror chose to make his landing on these shores, he had considered joining an alliance of Free Cities against their rivals, to carve for himself a new Valyria. He chose as he chose, creating the greatest kingdom in the world. But might Daeron, that warlike young king, think to out-do his famed ancestor?

And so the gossip spreads, from the inner circles to the court, from the court to the septs and guildhalls, and from there down to the meanest Flea Bottom potshop.